


What Kind Of Man

by MamaWardentotheRescue



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Humor, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Mostly Drabbles, ride the bull hell yeah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-04-02 20:01:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4072705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaWardentotheRescue/pseuds/MamaWardentotheRescue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>fem!Adaar/Iron Bull drabbles from the start and the end of Inquisition. Maybe some afterwards and pre-inquisition...we'll see....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions

From the moment she saw him, Asaaranda Adaar was intrigued with The Iron Bull; she was amazed how casual and ' _not-Qun-like_ ' he was around his men. He seemed completely different to how her parents described the followers of the Qun to be.

That was until she actually spoke to him.

He greeted her as her merc group would greet a potential client, commented on her being Qunari, and admitted that he was Ben-Hassrath. It all seemed calm until he heard that the Herald of Andraste was Tal-Vashoth. The towering Qunari was cold, and when he thought she couldn’t see him, he’d give her a look that would have an average person scared to leave their beds. However, she wasn’t average. Adaar in return continued to force her presence on The Iron Bull, asking questions with a smile, but fire burning in her eyes. For these reasons, Adaar only brought him along on her travels when she suspected she would need a heavy-hitter.

It was when she received a raven from Redcliffe requesting help with a dragon that she realised the Qunari would be joining her for the next few days. Surprisingly, there were fewer arguments and distrustful glares, and more excited comments from Iron Bull. He was going to _fight a fucking dragon_. The excitement didn’t die-down at all when the made it to the dragon’s den. He charged towards the beast’s legs, roaring in Qunlat, with Cassandra following behind. Sera weaved her way through the battleground, attacking up close with the two warriors, attack from a perched position. Adaar was ruthless with her magic, but made sure none of her harmful spells ever hit her companions. Her control over the magical storm surprised Iron Bull greatly, and although he would never admit it, he was rather impressed.

Unfortunately, the distraction gave the dragon time to attack; its talon hit him across the chest, sending him soaring through the air. He crashed to the ground, but the beast wasn’t finished with him yet. She knocked the Seeker to the ground with her scaled tail, and pounced towards the Qunari. She pinned him down with a claw, drawing a deep breath before she could spout fire. Even with all his strength, Iron Bull struggled to move the dragon’s hold. Before he could be roasted alive, Adaar sent a bolt of lightning towards the dragon’s eye. As it roared in pain, the Herald darted over to the front leg that was pinning Iron Bull down. She charged, spinning her staff around so she could slash the dragon’s wrist with ease. It collapsed under its own weight, rolling to its side and loosening its grip on Iron Bull. Without hesitation, Asaaranda sent a magical missile to wreak havoc on the dragon’s open wounds; the lightning crackled through the beast’s body, temporarily paralyzing it. Iron Bull rolled onto his feet, and walked past the Herald.

“Allow me,” he grunted, wiping away the blood running from his broken nose with the back of his hand. He picked up his dropped weapon, and walked over to the twitching dragon. He raised his war axe over his head, and swiftly came down on the beast’s neck like a guillotine.

**. . .**

“You need to let me check your wounds.”

“I’m fine. You’re overreacting.”

“ _Bull, your chest is a bloody mess!_ ”

The stubborn Qunari grunted in defeat, and made a motion with his hand, inviting the Herald into his tent. She was the only one who could patch him up, as there was an incident previously where a human healer almost touched an area covered with vitaar. Adaar started to dab a warm, wet cloth over the open gash across his chest. _Damn_ , she thought, _that dragon got him good_ …

“ _Shit!_ ” Iron Bull growled, grabbing her wrist before she could touch wit again. Adaar raised her other free hand, and said gently, “If I don’t clean it and sew it up, it will fester. A dragon’s claw attack will infect you even faster than a normal wound.”

Letting his hand drop to his side, he watched her continue her work. She hummed while she cleaned and patched up his chest; he felt as though he new the tune, but he couldn’t place it. Hiding his winces, he quirked a little smile. “So…you know about dragons?”

She let out a small laugh. “A bit.”

“Where from?”

“My group’s elder, and stories from my mother,” she answered with a smile. It was a smile Iron Bull had never seen on her before. In fact, the way she did everything that day was different. At least, for _him_ it felt like that…

He didn't trust these feelings. They felt unnatural.

“She was Tamassran before she left the Qun,” she continued, “So she’d taught me a lot. Patching up big-headed Qunari for instance.”

She gave him a playful grin before continued with her stitching work on his chest. A few minutes past after Adaar wrapped bandages around his torso and over his shoulder; she quickly moved to helping Iron Bull wash the vitaar off of his face, and checked for any other wounds on his body. Her eyes fought against the urge to study his scars, but occasionally she’d catch herself tracing them with her finger. Despite their uneasy relationship, Iron Bull didn’t complain. In stead he found himself relaxed, occasionally breathing in her scent; the salty smell of the sea mixed with crystal grace. It was an odd sense of tranquility, being inside their little bubble; Iron Bull asked Adaar about her parents, and whether they taught her anything else about the Qun. At first she thought it was strange for him to suddenly have curiosity about her Tal-Vashoth life, but Adaar quickly answered each question with ease. She told him about how in summer it would get so hot that her group would sleep beneath the stars, and the story of when her father met the Champion of Kirkwall in the first few years being in the city.

“Your father helped Hawke take down Tal-Vashoth?” Iron Bull questioned incredulously. “But wasn’t he Tal-Vashoth himself?”

“He didn’t ‘ _help_ ’ help, he just…pointed in the direction of where the violent rebels were.” Adaar explained, scrubbing at a spot on his collarbone. “And besides, he wasn’t like them.”

Her voice was hard, as if she trying to convince the world in one conversation. With a sigh, Asaaranda continued cleaning his scrapes and scratches. With a quiet voice she said, “His name was Meraas. He became a sword for hire, and he found me a place in the Valo-Kas. He taught me how to protect myself when my magic faltered. He taught me how to live and survive in a world that would never thank me, let alone _appreciate_ my presence…and he died knowing that.”

She had made her way to Iron Bull’s face with the wet cloth without realizing. Her free hand was resting on his jaw, forcing the Qunari to look at her. Adaar’s eyes blazed with emotion, “He was Tal-Vashoth, but he _wasn’t one of them_. _Neither_ was my mother, nor my brother. _And neither am_ _I_.”

She stared at him fiercely, trying to make him understand, until his features softened.

“Seems to me your father gave himself the wrong name,” Iron Bull finally said, and Adaar braced herself for the worst. “ _Meraas_ means ‘nothing’ or ‘alone’, and it's obvious that he sure as hell was none of that.”

She blinked in surprise. _Was that a compliment?_

He gave her a sheepish smile. _Shit, it was._  

**. . .**

They returned to Haven from the Hinterlands shortly afterwards. The Herald and her group of three were covered with bandages, covering healed scars and burns. And despite having a large, mangled claw mark across his chest, Iron Bull was smiling and chuckling…with Adaar. Krem had watched the two ox-men continue their silent war for weeks on end, and thought that it would take a miracle or a very stern intervention to end it. So to see them together acting chummy was definitely a surprise. She saw the merc staring with astonishment, and winked. Instead of following Sera and Cassandra through the gate, Adaar turned around to face Iron Bull.

“You gonna’ be okay?” she asked, nodding towards his bandaged torso. He waved her off casually, and responded, “It’s just a flesh wound, Boss.”

“Bull. You were pinned down _by a dragon_.”

“Yeah, but you made sure I wasn’t barbecued, and in my book anything else is a scratch.” He grinned, ignoring her incredulous stare. Iron Bull’s smile softened, and continued, “Seriously, Adaar. I’m _fine_.”

“Fine, fine…” she muttered, giving him a small smile. As she started to turn around and walk up the gate’s steps, she called back, “Just tell me when you want the skull of that beast to be delivered.”

“Wait – you were serious about that?” he yelled back, but received her laugh as a response. He watched her disappear through the large, oak doors with a smile still playing on his lips. Krem jogged over to his side, and cocked his head towards his captain.

“What was all that about?” he queried, noting The Iron Bull’s smile.

“I don’t know yet,” the Qunari answered honestly. He turned to his friend, and grinned. “Hopefully I find out soon.”


	2. Mr Misunderstood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana's scouts listen in on one of Iron Bull's reports about the Inquisition and the Herald, but things are misunderstood and Adaar become's pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting this so late. Shit's been goin' down in the real world.
> 
> Hope you enjoy

“I don’t believe that.”

“The report says –“

“ _Then I don’t trust the report!_ ”

Leliana let out a frustrated groan. The Herald continued to glare at the parchment on the Spymaster’s makeshift desk. It was a report from one of Leliana’s scouts who had been keeping an eye on The Iron Bull. Apparently he had been informing the Qun a little bit more of the Inquisition than he had let on, the main topic being the so-called Herald of Andraste.

“He probably thought he was being watched, and made something up,” Adaar suggested desperately. “I don’t believe he’d tell the Qun about my past and family. I _can’t_ believe that.”

Slapping another curled sheet of parchment on her desk, Leliana hissed, “This is a written transcript of his last meeting with another Ben-Hassrath. _Read it_.”

She did. Parts were written in qunlat, the rest in the common tongue. What she could understand she connected that The Bull wanted something. Close to the end of the transcript, she noticed a paragraph in qunlat. Adaar found it hard to translate, but she recognised two names; _Meraas_ and _Valo-Kas_.

“ _THAT ASS!_ ” Asaaranda roared, spinning on her heel. The qunari stormed down the icy steps to the large oak doors. Seeing her in such a state, the guards quickly opened them. The Herald continued on her warpath until she found the horned giant.

“Hey, boss –"

_BAM!_

Her fist collided with his face. Those around them stared in horror. The Iron Bull touched his face in a daze. Adaar’s right hand started to crackle with electricity as she lunged for him again, but Krem wrapped his arms around her waist, pinning her arms to her side. Master Dennett decided to help the poor lad.

“How _dare_ you involve my family with the Qun!” she bellowed, “I _trusted_ you with that information!”

“I don’t know –“

“ _Bullshit!_ ”

Iron Bull composed himself, straightening his back and wiping away the blood from his newly cut lip. He moved towards her until he was close enough that her face was almost touching his chest. The qunari did not bend his head down to be face-to-face with her. She was forced to look up at him to meet his hard stare.

“I did _not_ involve your family with the Qun. At least not in the way you think.” He growled, “I did _not_ betray your trust, nor the Inquisition’s. So _back off_ or I will _make_ you.”

Adaar raised a brow at his threat. She tugged away from the two men’s grip, but continued her glare with Bull’s. Asaaranda snarled, “You try anything, _Ben-Hassrath_ , and I’ll _show_ you how I’ve survived this long.”

Grumbling thunder rolled over the sky, and lightning stuck a tree a few meters beside The Iron Bull. It was only then as he watched her turn away that he noticed her right hand still crackling purple.

. . .

Later that day, Adaar received a knock on her cabin door. She had calmed down since her ‘discussion’ with The Iron Bull earlier, but was still uneasy and jittery. Wincing at the pain in her bruised knuckles, she opened the door to see Krem.

“I come baring gifts,” he grinned sheepishly, lifting up a small basket filled with sweets; cinnamon buns, small cakes, and her favourite, toffee apples. Begrudgingly, the qunari let him in. She reminded him that it was only because she had a sweet tooth.

“So…are you here to beg forgiveness for that oaf? Or are you trying to bribe me with pastries?” Adaar asked the mercenary, before biting into a cream-filled bun. Krem scratched the back of his head, and replied with a chuckle, “’Bit of both, really.”

With a groan the Herald slumped down on to her bed, clutching the basket of goodies to her chest. Swallowing her food, she nodded towards him.

“Well get on with it.”

Krem pulled the desk chair over, and sat facing her. Adaar watched him struggle to find his words. Maybe he was intimated? _No_ , she thought, _the merc has spent sometime around The Iron Bull. He wouldn’t be intimidated of me_.

“I don’t know what the chief has done, and it’s not my place to question him…or you,” he finally said, “But I know him, Lady Adaar, and loyalty is something he doesn’t take lightly.”

Adaar sighed. “I don’t doubt his loyalty, Krem. But I do question where his loyalties lie. You see him as The Iron Bull; the leader of the Chargers,” She explained, sitting up to face him properly. “I see him as _Ben-Hassrath_ ; spy for the Qun and _Tal-Vashoth_ hunter. So when I receive information that indicated that he had been telling his beloved _Arishok_ about my _Tal-Vashoth_ family, I’m going to get _a bit_ antsy.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between them after she handed him the transcript. The Herald offered the mercenary one of the many sweets from the basket. Krem took one, and stared at it in his hand. Adaar could read that this new information conflicted with his original thought of his friend. She gritted her teeth as guilt washed over her.

“Look,” she finally said with a begrudging tone, “If you can prove me wrong about The Bull, or convince him to tell me the truth on his own terms, then I promise not to fry him alive the next I see him.”

His head snapped up, and an impish grin started to spread across his face. “Oh, I can do that, My Lady. Don’t you worry.”

. . .

The next morning followed quickly as Krem planned his offence against Iron Bull. He gathered him self for his ‘discussion’. The issue they found however was how do you one-up an ox man who can easily crush your head with his bare hands?

“ _Krem de la Krem!_ ” Bull greeted boisterously, as Krem walked towards the tree he was using as a training dumy. “Where were you last night?”

“Oh you know me, chief,” Krem jested, “I’m a magnet for the ladies.”

The qunari began to laugh, but winced in pain at his bruised jaw. _Adaar’s obviously stronger than she looks,_ Krem noted. At the thought of the Herald, he cocked his head and sighed. Krem watched Bull beat the living shit out of the poor tree’s trunk, and fleetingly imagined his self on the receiving end. He knew that Bull would never do that to him, but the thought still unnerved him.

“I talked to Adaar last night.” Krem admitted. Iron Bull stopped his assault on the old yew. He squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw. Krem didn’t need to see his face to know he was pissed.

“Did you now?” Bull murmured.

“I tried to convince her that you weren’t in the wrong. That you had been misunderstood.” Krem continued, taking a step forward, “But _then_ she showed me this; it’s your conversation with one of those qunari messengers.”

The Iron Bull snatched the parchment out of his hand. As Krem continued to express his thoughts about the qunari’s deplorable actions, Bull quickly read the transcript over. His whole report was there, qunlat and the common-tongue included, but no translation. _Red’s not as clever as she makes herself out to be_ , he thought.

“…It says ' _Valo-Kas'_ , chief! As in her bloody mercenary group! _What the fuck were you thinking_ – “

“Parts of this is in qunlat, Krem.” Bull interrupted.

“What? Yeah, and?”

“You can’t read it.” He pointed out to the Vint. “ _Neither_ can Red’s crew, and apparently Adaar’s knowledge of the language is pretty limited too.”

Krem’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ as realization hit the merc like a charging bronto. Bull shook his head and grunted, “They most likely saw names that connected to the Boss, and jumped to the only conclusion they could think of. Do they really think I’m that bad of a spy? I am insulted.”

“Then... what were you reporting on?” Krem asked. The Iron Bull set his battle-axe against the trunk of the beaten tree, and rubbed his knuckles.

“I was asking for immunity for her family.” He explained simply. “The _Arishok_ wants a civil connection to the Inquisition, right? To have that, protecting the _Valo-Kas_ and her parents, as well the _Tal-Vashoth_ group they lived alongside with is a way to build trust.”

A small knowing smile found its way to Krem’s mouth. “Of course it’s all just for the Qun.”

“Shut up, Aclassi.”

. . .

Snow fell softly over Haven as the sun started to set. Asaaranda swung her feet in front of her as she sat on the small pier looking over the frozen lake. She listened to the quiet hum the mark made, and took a swig from her mead sack.

“ _Golly gosh guys! He said something decent, he must be one of the good guys!_ ” she mumbled, mocking her self in a high-pitched voice, “What a fucking idiot.”

“You don’t sound anything like that,” a familiar voice commented. Adaar turned her head to see The Iron Bull. She could make out a smirk on his shadow-hidden face, and it made her blood boil.

“What the fuck do you want?” He sauntered up, and slumped down next to her. He grabbed the sack lying in-between them, and took a few swigs. Adaar glared at him, as he corked the mead sack and set it down again.

“Did you know the _Arishok_ helped the Hero of Ferelden in stopping the fifth blight?” Iron Bull asked, looking out over the lake. “The Warden opened his eyes as _Sten_ of the _Beresad_ , and it helped when he became _Arishok_. He was different than the old one. When he looked at the rest of Thedas he didn’t just see _Bas, Tal-Vashoth_ and so on; he saw _people_. Others didn’t like that, but it helped when it came to negotiating.”

“What has this got to do with anything?” Adaar snapped. She watched his eye shift to hers.

“Everything, Boss.” He answered. “He wants peace – at least for now – and you’re the only one who can close the rifts, so you’re needed. This can change though, so I requested arrangements to be made so you could trust the Qun, and vice-versa. His ‘fondness’ for the outside world makes it more likely that he’ll comply.”

The Iron Bull continued to explain his plan, just as he did with Krem. The stars were out when he finally finished.

“You were trying to keep my people safe?” Adaar asked quietly. Iron Bull nodded his head. She gave him a small smile, and said, “Sorry for punching you then.”

He chuckled, and added, “And I’m sorry for threatening you.”

The two qunari watched the town of Haven light up for the night in silence. They could see the Chargers enter the gates to undoubtedly drink the town dry. Adaar looked down at her marked hand, and pondered the new information.

“Why did you mention my father to them then? He’s dead.” She questioned.

“I told them what you had told me about him,” Bull answered gently. “He helped Hawke stop the Tal-Vashoth in Kirkwall. I thought it might sugar coat the deal a bit more.”

Adaar nodded her head, understanding his intentions. _Maybe he isn’t so bad_ , she thought.

“You’re alright, Bull.” She decided, taking another swig of her mead. “Just tell me what your up to next time, otherwise I will stuff and mount you on the wall.”

A smug grin crawled onto his face as he thought that it wouldn’t be the first time someone had stuffed and mounted him. Seeing his look, Adaar snorted and rolled her eyes. She slipped off the edge of the pier and steadied herself on the ice.

“Thanks, Bull.” She smiled.

“Any time, Boss.”


	3. A Strange Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this took a while....
> 
> enjoy Adaar's adventures with very light head trauma and almost freezing to death. yay!

A throbbing ache pulsed across the side of Adaar’s skull. She grunted as she picked herself up from the cold, hard ground. Her hand gently touched her face, the top of her head, and finally her horns, fearing that one of the three may have been damaged in the process of falling through the mine shaft. Icy droplets fell from the frozen roof, splattering over her blood smeared face. The Herald didn’t know whether it was hers or someone else’s. She didn't want to think about it.

Adaar struggled to her feet, clutching her ribs with her burning left hand. Was she delirious from the concussion caused from the fall, or was the green light brighter than usual? The qunari stumbled forward through the icy corridors until she reached another man-made room. A wisp and two cloaked figures moved around the area. For a split second, Adaar’s pain-riddled mind thought that maybe they were lost; the thought of it almost made her laugh. However, her thoughts were quickly overrun with gut-wrenching despair – the first time she saw a Templar, hearing her father had died in the line of work, watching her mother being cut down by a Ben-Hassrath party while her brother sobbed into her tunic…

The demons turned around as her hand flared up, tearing the scarred skin even more. Like it had the mind of its own, her palm snapped upwards towards the roof of the cave. Her hand clenched into a fist, creating a rift in the air, and sending the retched creatures back where they came from. Adaar screamed as the force of the fade dragged her battered body upright. It felt as if dragon’s fire was scorching every inch of her skin, particularly around her left hand. Her eyes rolled back and she saw only black.

 

_Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more._

The familiar voice sent an earthquake through her body. She searched for a way to escape. She _would_ escape.

_Words mortals often hurl at the darkness. Once they were mine. They are always lies._

What did this monster know? She was the Herald of Andraste. Some say she was a god in her own right! Despite her pride, Adaar remembered his twisted face and towering height. She never did trust anyone taller than her.

_Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The will that is Corypheus!_

Corypheus. Yes…that was his name. He boomed it as if it was a weapon itself, able to cut down his foes with fear alone. It made her search harder for a way out.

_I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as "touched." What you flail at rifts. I crafted to assault the very Heavens. And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!_

It took all of her strength not to talk back. To send lightning bolts at nothing, and to scream a “Fuck you!” into the darkness. She knew it would be a waste of energy, and she needed to continue to find a way out.

_I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world._

Adaar could see a growing green light in the distance. She ran towards it as fast as she could, but each step was sluggish and weighed down. Still, she continued forward until the green light blinded her like the sun.

_Beg that I succeed. For I have seen the Throne of the Gods, and it was empty!_

 

Adaar’s eyes opened with a flutter. Once again she found herself on the ground in pain. The Herald pushed herself up with her hands despite how woozy she felt. She looked around to find she was alone; there were no signs of demons or a rift that was created by her own hand. Given any other day Adaar would have been stumped about what just happened and would have asked more questions, but she was too tired and needed to keep moving unless she wanted to freeze to death inside a giant rock.

While she moved through the cave, hoping to find a way out, Adaar thought of all the people in Haven. Had the survivors escaped? What of her knew found companions? And that boy with the ridiculously big hat, Cole, what became of him? She thought of those she couldn’t save. Flissa was such a kind-hearted girl, always ready to help with feeding refugees that found their way into the town. She wasn’t saved from the collapsing tavern because Adaar was too busy fighting off red lyrium covered Templars. She thought of the girl’s family in Denerim and the raven that would be sent to inform them of her passing. And what of Minaeve? She was intelligent, fearless, and loving to those considered out of the ordinary…but Adaar wasn’t fast enough, and could only shield Adan from the explosion that followed. She thought of the tranquil that followed the elf to safety; would they acknowledge her passing in their own straight-forward way, or would they mourn? _They might not even be still alive_ , a dark thought whispered, creeping up on her.

Blistering cold winds hit her, letting all her thoughts escape into the night. Adaar had finally found the mouth of the cave. Her arms wrapped around her torso and delved into the blizzard.

**. . .**

 

The Herald hadn’t been seen since the dragon landed inside the walls of Haven. The Iron Bull, Dorian and Varric left her cranking the last turns of the trebuchet on her orders. It was against the qunari’s personal morals to leave someone behind, but Adaar made it very clear that if they didn’t get to safety in time she’d beat their asses in the next life. And so they pulled themselves away from her. From Haven. From the danger she was about to face alone.

The Iron Bull clenched his teeth together at the thought, as he helped set up camp with what remained of the inquisition. He could hear the Commander, Spymaster, Ambassador and Cassandra speak in hushed tones, occasionally breaking the quiet with a raised voice here and a violent wave of their hands there. It was obvious they were stressed, just what about was the real question. He kept himself preoccupied by thinking of the many things on their shit-list, and what was at the top of that said list. Was it their missing Herald, or their home base drowned in snow?

“Why aren’t we out there _looking_ for her?” Dorian muttered. He looked positively miserable in the cold. Dorian would stare at the Iron Bull, trying to understand why the horned bastard was still bare-chested. The Tevintan glared at the arguing advisors, and continued, “We can’t do anything about the rifts without the Herald and her bloody hand. So why are we still here?”

“Maybe they’re scared about what they’ll find.” Varric answered downheartedly. Dorian looked at the dwarf, and then down at his own boots. The Iron Bull watched the Seeker as she stomped towards them.

“Gather a search party.” Cassandra ordered them, “It has to be small. We need as many people here as we can, but we can’t leave Adaar out there.”

“What if there’s nothing to find?” Varric asked quietly.

The Seeker turned to him with a mixed expression. Iron Bull could tell she wanted to hit him, but she couldn’t deny the odds of finding the Herald were slim. The dwarf had seen a whole lot of shit already before the Inquisition. He had probably seen many good people die in Kirkwall, some of them friends. It was no wonder Varric’s faith was low.

“We will find _something_ , with _or_ without you.” She answered with a growl, turning on her heel. Thus a small group went out on a seemingly hopeless search. Both Cassandra and Cullen joined the group of Solas, Dorian, and Blackwall. Krem and Iron Bull also tagged along through the snow. If Adaar was found, they would need the qunari’s strength to carry her. And so they began looking.

**. . .**

 

When Adaar thought of her death, she thought her life would end in some spectacular way, like fighting off a dragon, or drinking too much dwarven ale. Not by freezing to death alone in the mountains. Was she even _in the mountains?_ She didn’t know, but she did know that she was numb enough to not feel the extent of her body’s pain.

The light from her mark guided her through the blizzard. Adaar found old fire pits along her path, each one getting warmer every time. She hoped that every step out of the blizzard took her one step closer to safety. It was only until she reached a rockier slope that what little strength she had left failed her. Adaar dropped to her knees, then fell onto her side. She could see a plume of smoke in the sky; _she was so close_. Raspy sobs broke erupted from her.

_I’m going to die here. I don’t want to die here._

Somewhere close somebody called out her name. She thought it was her head playing tricks on her, until the voices got closer and became more distinct. Adaar couldn’t stand, let alone sit up straight, so she stretched out her left hand, raising it as high as she could. _That_ did the trick.

Through the dark, the search party spotted the green light, and followed it like a fiery beacon at sea.

“She’s over here!” she could hear Cullen yell. The crunch of boots on snow was the sweetest sound the Herald had ever heard. The Commander knelt down next to her, and covered her with his fur-lined cape.

“You’re safe now, Adaar.” He murmured. Solas ran over to check her health, quickly healing her cuts and scrapes. The elf took her hand to check the mark.

“It’s grown worse.” He said to the group that was now surrounding her.

“We have to get her out of this cold.” Krem piped up. Cassandra agreed. Without a word, Iron Bull moved the others out of the way and scooped her up in his arms. Dorian made sure she was still covered. Adaar shivered in his arms. Somehow, even in a bloody snow storm the Iron Bull radiated heat, and she was finding it hard to keep her eyes open.

“Stay with me, boss,” he grunted. “You gotta’ concussion. You need to stay awake.”

She mumbled something incoherent into his chest. He asked her to repeat.

“I said your titties are so warm…”

In the middle of the group’s silence and seriousness, the big qunari burst out into laughter. He was not expecting an answer like that.

**. . .**

 

To say that Assaranda Adaar was having a strange day would be putting it mildly. She had sealed the hole in the sky, and then a self-proclaimed god with his pet dragon and magic marble attacked her. She then survived an avalanche, was apparently brought back from the dead by the Maker, and now people were _singing_. Adaar could barely stand without swaying or vomiting, and they were _singing_. What for? She had no idea. She couldn’t remember what she had even said to Mother Giselle. It was probably something horrible and very true; the things you think but should never say out. Either way, the poultice the healers gave her was _really_ _kicking in._

Adaar shuffled away until she bumped into Solas. He did his best to steady her before asking if he could speak to her in private.

“Alright, but I can’t promise that I’ll be able to understand a word you say.” She shrugged, rubbing her bandaged head.

“Maybe it will be for the best that way.” He said under his breath. Solas led her to a brazier a little further away from the camp. With a swift gesture of his hand turquoise ribbons ignited in it. Facing the flames, he began to speak about the orb Corypheus had. Adaar tried to follow as best she could, but her brain felt like mud. However, she  _did_ understand that the orb was an elven artifact. 

“I do not yet know how Corypheus survived... Nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb's origin.”

“And if they _did_ learn…that would be bad?” she asked, trying her best to connect the dots he gave her.

“Quite possibly.” He answered.

“…because they would blame your people?”

“Correct.”

The disoriented Herald let out a low whistle and clicked her tongue. _“Well, shit.”_

 

After her discussion with her favourite scholarly elf, Adaar scrambled her way to her makeshift bed. The problem was she couldn’t remember where it was. She didn’t even know where she left her staff after Haven.

“Why did I have to hit my head?” she grumbled to herself. Now feeling rather lightheaded and dizzy, the Herald ducked into the nearby tent. Whoever’s it was before, it was now hers for the night. She was too out of it to feel guilty.

“Uh…what are you doing?”

Iron Bull was crouched in opening of the tent. It now made sense to her why the bed was big enough for her body.

“I am _sleeping_ ,” Adaar told him matter-of-factly. She yawned, and mumbled, “So go away.”

“But this is _my_ tent.” He argued, half amused.

“Not today.”

Instead of leaving, or even chucking her out with force, the Iron Bull moved to sit next to the bed. He propped his elbow up on his raised knee, and rested the side of his face his palm to stare at her.

“What did the healers _do_ to you?” he asked curiously. “Did they make you take some weird mushrooms, or was it just hard liquor?”

“S’neither,” she slurred, “…made me a poultice…s’makes my fingers numb and head fuzzier.”

_Still doesn’t explain why you’re in my bed_ , he thought. He let out a big sigh, and continued to watch the Herald snuggle into his furs. Despite her fears nature on the battlefield, and her courageous leadership off of it, Assaranda Adaar looked like a child. It was an unusual sight to behold. He had noticed that Krem did the same, of course, but Iron Bull _knew_ Krem. He knew him like a brother, while the Herald was his employer. Even more importantly, a religious icon for the ages.

“Why didn’t you let us stay with you when that Corypheus ass hole showed up?” the qunari quietly asked. He didn’t know where the question came from, and he even more surprised that she was conscious enough to reply.

“I didn’t want’ch’you guys to get hurt.” Adaar mumbled, opening her eyes a little to look up at him. With a sleepy smile she patted his lowered knee, and added, “You guys’are like _family_. And _too_ many families have already died for crazy shit like this.”

As she drifted off to sleep, the Iron Bull pondered her answer. It was strange to think that she already thought of her ragtag group as family, but then again he also had the Chargers so maybe he did understand a little bit.

Not much. But a little bit.


End file.
